Because you made a weird mean teasing joke about my age while I was trying to remember how many years ago my dad died.
Because you don’t believe in eating out in the week.
Because when you do eat out, you “don’t allow” salad. Salad nazi.
Because of the look in your eyes when I said I could do with an early night ready for a big day at work the next day.
Because you argued that you had an earlier start than me.
Because you tried to make me have more than one drink.
Because you said you wanted to read some of my writing so that you can “understand the way my mind works.”
Because you kept interrupting me when I was halfway through a sentence.
Because you mentioned how you wish you could make a relationship work with your ex about 31 times.
Because you said “that ship has sailed” about 31 times.
Because when I asked what creative stuff you’re into, you looked at me like I was speaking Croatian.
Because you vetoed my request for a gin and tonic and said it was too dilute.
Because you like “all music.”
Because you have Steak Friends and Dad Friends.
Because I don’t like your face.
Because of your left buttock, the upper outer aspect of it.
Because I suggested Thai food and you turned your nose up and chose loaded nachos at the Greene King pub instead.
Because you insisted on buying cocktails afterwards and seemed borderline annoyed when I only had a sip.
Because you offered to walk me home and then tried to kiss my face off.
Because you asked me this question.
Because, in the end Mr Passy Aggy Pushy Pressure, you are not the man for me. Good Bye. Arrivederci. Hasta La Next Life. Fuck. Off.